


The Farmhouse Sanctuary

by SuperSecretSquirrel (PeregrineDubh)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:35:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25881448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeregrineDubh/pseuds/SuperSecretSquirrel
Summary: People in the know spoke of the little old farmhouse just outside of town in low voices and fond tones. It was a place of magic, they said, a sanctuary where creatures of all shapes and sizes could find rest and healing. It was a place where “might have a few months” could turn into “had a few more years” and where those who were expected to waste away could rally and thrive.





	The Farmhouse Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> Response to a writing prompt

People in the know spoke of the little old farmhouse just outside of town in low voices and fond tones. It was a place of magic, they said, a sanctuary where creatures of all shapes and sizes could find rest and healing. It was a place where “might have a few months” could turn into “had a few more years” and where those who were expected to waste away could rally and thrive. 

* * *

The knock on the screen door was light, just a feather tapping against the external glass, but it was enough. The interior wooden door opened letting warm golden light spill out into the black of the late winter evening a moment before the screen door swung wide. The homeowner looked down at the tiny sprite shivering on the cold concrete slab of the porch and sighed. “Oh sweetie. Come here. Let’s get you inside.”

A hand was extended down to the little creature and as the diminutive fairy climbed into the palm, the healer could see that the sprite’s wings were shredded and torn. The doors closed behind them, cutting off the chill of the night. As they moved from the entry hall to the living room a Domovoi stuck his grey and bewhiskered head out of the stone hearth.

“Ludomir, would you bring some warm honeyed milk for our guest please?” The healer smiled at the Domovoi as he hopped down from the hearth and trotted off to the kitchen, his beard trailing over his shoulder. The next door led to a cozy room, lined on three sides with wide windows that would let in the light, and furnished with a work table, easel and cabinets against the wall with the house door. Dog beds were tucked under the table and along the wall, with several small old dogs lounging happily upon them, and another door slotted between two windows to the left led to a screened porch. 

“Alright, little one, let’s get you checked out, warmed up and fed.” The healer set the fairy on the work table. “I’m going to examine your injuries now, if you have no objections?” Receiving agreement from the fairy, the healer went about examining the little creature. By the time Ludomir came into the room with a tiny mug of warm honeyed milk and a selection of nibbles on a small tray, the healer had cleaned and treated the fairy’s injuries and was examining the creature’s gauzy wings. “Bird netting?” 

The fairy nodded before starting to cry. There was nothing worse for a fairy than to lose their wings. 

“Here now. No need for that.” The healer smiled lifting the fairy off the table and onto a comfortable, if far too large, chair already occupied by the Domovoi. “Ludomir brought you some warm honeyed milk and something to eat. Why don’t you eat and rest while I take care of the wing situation.”

The little fairy hiccuped a few times before taking the tiny mug from the tray the Domovoi sat beside them. As the pair watched the healer set up a board on a desk easel, and took out a small apothecary’s chest. From inside the chest the healer removed a sheet of nearly translucent vellum, charcoal stick, brush, and an iridescent glass jar. The healer sketched for a moment before attaching the vellum to the board on the easel . Picking up the fine white brush the healer dipped it into the glass jar before pulling it back. The fairy looked at the Domovoi, clearly confused by the lack of paint on the brush. The Domovoi, for his part, was watching in rapt and excited anticipation as the healer began to paint. The sprite’s eyes widened as color flowed from the seemingly dry brush, leaving vivid hues in a sheen across the delicate paper. 

The healer painted with quick delicate strokes, and a beautiful set of wings took shape under the brush. When the painting was done, the healer moved the easel aside, cleaned the brush with a bit of silk cloth and replaced the painting supplies in the chest. The healer turned to the fairy and held one hand out. “Come on, little one. This next part needs your participation.”

Once the fairy was standing on the desk again, the healer removed the painting from the board on the easel. Holding the painting up the healer blew three breaths across the image before holding the fragile paper aloft. A clear voice rang out in song as the painting floated unsupported for a moment before bursting into multicolored flames. When the fire subsided a set of gauzy wings glowed in midair before slowly floating lower and lower. With a slight sighing shift of the air, the wings settled into place over the broken stubs on the fairy’s back. A brilliant flash of light and a crescendo of song rolled over the room, and then silence. 

The fairy looked over their shoulder at the iridescent rainbow wings, as seemingly ephemeral as soap bubbles, fluttering where their damaged appendages had been. “Well… what are you waiting for? Try them out.”

The fairy launched upwards in a blur of color, darting about the room with a cry of joy. The healer smiled as the fairy hovered ecstatic in the air. “Good. I’m glad you like them.” The healer laughed. “It’s late, however, and you need to rest. You are welcome to stay here as long as you like, and sleep wherever you find to be most comfortable.”

* * *

The night turned into day, and then the winter to spring. The little fairy, like the Domovoi, and the gnomes, and the various other creatures who called the old farm home, never chose to leave the garden that surrounded the old farmhouse, but their story did. Carried on the wind and the wings of birds it spread and those in the know nodded fondly when they heard. The little old farmhouse was a place of magic, they said in low voices, and they smiled. 


End file.
